News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1887-02-24

| thdI any IuluS WAS MIOugs DuG COuIt
plainly see that he was disconnected
and more experience taught me, from
his movements, that he had lost his ser
mon! Now the bishop could not, an
more than myself, preach without hi
Ms. Certain glances began to be ex
changed among the people, owing tt
the delay. The audience sat expectan
while the prelate fumbled AS in al
probability he had brought only one
sermon, the gravity of the dilemma
coul scarcely be overestimated | was
sitting close to him in the choir stalls
and suddenly resolved to give him at
least the opportunity of extricating him
self from his difficulty. STOPPING for
ward as if to lift something from the
bottom of the pulpit stair, 1 rose with
my own sermon in my hand and passed
it to him. As afterwards discovered,
the paper was Identical with his N,
and | saw that he was under the i'm
preston that the missing MS had been
restored to him, for spreading it out
leisurely, he looked calmly around the
congregation with q certain degree of
impressment, as if nothing unusual had
happened. He spoke the first few words
extempore, and then had recourse to the
Ms. He started on seeing the hand
writing, but it was too late now to re-
cede, so, giving me glance of surprise,
he began to read. The sermon was
filed with passages which l had care
fully selected for their beauty, and
these he frequently delivered with true
eloquence. Sir Peter was attentive and
critical, and, in common with every one
else, plainly considered the sermon to
be an excellent one. After the conclu-
sion of the morning services the bishop
sought an opportunity of speaking to
me.
'rYou relieved me, he said, ''from a
most awkward predicament, though
/ greatly deplore the means you used.
1t would not do, of course, for the mat
ter to pass beyond ourselves, and
think | can best requite your services by
presenting you with the living of Ship
pington."
l was so overcome by surprise and
gratitude that could scarcely murmur
my thanks. l soon contrived in an agi-
tated whisper to convey the intelligence
to Fanny, but her sad smile told NE
that she did not think my good fortune
great enough to alter the attitude of
her parents to ard US. l was never
theless much elated, and / was so alb
sorbed by other thoughts that, when l
found myself in the pulpit in the after
noon, remembered for the first time
that l had given the bishop my sermon,
and had not taken care to provide my
self with another. The church was
again crowded; the bishop and Sir
Peter Surlyman were present, and every
one seemed to me to be conscious of my
mishap. reflected that if | left the
pulpit the bishop might think | was
my behavior in the morning
equivocal when l had handed him the
MS, and he might therefore cancel his
My dilemma was greater
1y far than his, as my whole future life !
seemed to be trembling in the balance. |
While thus distracted, my eyes fell on |
paper lying in the bottom of the pulpit, |
md almost concealed by footstool. |
stopped to lift it, fervently hoping it !
might prove to be some old sermon /
which had providently found its way
there. Thank goodness, it was ser
mon; and had begun to read ere | re-
allied the truth 1t was the bishops
own sermon, which he must have drop
ped. Providence seemed to have eX-
tricated me from my difficulty, and
there was no time to reflect on the pro
priety of my conduct; so without any
hesitation | began to preach. | soon
entered into the spirit of the magniti-
cent discourse, and did as much justice
as | could to the elegant periods. Some
times the words flowed smoothly on
ward in mellifuous stream, and anon
they would Use into the thunder of
harsh denunciation. Once when raising
my hand in an oritorical gesture, VhIle
delivered an anathema against world
liness and self esteem, | caught the
eye and quaied before the
angry expression of his pale statuesque
| was too much absorbed
with my subject, however, to be affect
ed by anything else then l was carry
ing my audience away with me, and
could not relinquish my hold. Almost
after left the church l
met the bishop.
''Slr," he said in low voice of sup
pressed anger, 'you will please consider
the presentation made this morning as
revoked; and l greatly regret that I
have no other means of expressing my
sense of your unworthy behavior" Now
to this day / cannot see why he should
have been so greatly offended with me.
He must have been aware that the
curse had taken was unprecedented
and involuntary Besides, as he had
preached my sermon, it was SUI ely no
less than just that l should preach his.
| was present at the dinner at the vicar
age, and in his conversation with the
Sir Peter did not seem at all
child might have told the
squire was not in a mood for granting
favors and thin the bishop knew it.
| was miserable enough myself: the ray
of sunshine that had shone upon my
again all was dark. After dinner, as
soon we reached the drawing room,
Sir Peter Surlyman accosted me and en-
tered into conversation.
young ma a-an," he said, with a
strong nasal twang he had, ''that was
/ stunning good sermon you gave us !
his afternoon; it knocked the bishops |
nto a cooked ha at. | mean you to be |
he vicar to Slopton Void, and I'll come |
sometime to hear you preach"
And then, to ratify his choice, ne pro-
claimed it to the bishop and vicar, both |
IF whom seemed as astounded as myself. |
could scarcely credit my good fortune
ill I had read it in the newspapers. No
,ordid obstacle now blocked my path
% happiness. Fanny's parents, how
ever. had so often and so Enthusiastically
manifested their objection to my atten-
lions which l had paid their daughter,
hat it was no easy matter for either OF
hem or me-possessing, as | trust we
lid, a sufficient measure of self respect
% approach each other on sure footing,
20 that it seemed probable | must leave
without arriving at the un-
which I greatly desired.
Several evenings before my departure L
vas standing talking to the vicar by
he fire while Fanny and her mother
we're seated at an occasional tab e en-
gagged with some fancy work. Ten was
she hour at which Fanny usually retired,
md it was now a quarter past that hour.
"Fanny," said her mother, looking at
the mantel clock, ''do you see the timc"
''There is no need for her to go yet,
said the rector, and she remained ior
another half hour.
Love is quick in discernment, and
from this trivial instance | concluded |
was an accepted suitor. Henceforth
our engagement seemed to be an ac-
cepted fact by all concerned Indeed,
a fewdays afterward the vicar drove
over with me to Slopton Void, and
with q aarfair1 e